Monday Missive: Tale From the Suburbs

‘Your son’s room smells,’ they said.
For some months, when I opened that bedroom, I’d get a whiff of it. Perhaps it had been there years, but that earthy pong, blended in with the general household of aromas, and lost to our senses. Besides, my son would never allow us in his room.

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Partners in the Fried Ice-Cream Conspiracy

I pointed from the boy group to the girl group. ‘You couldn’t find a partner for me, could you?’
‘Lee-Anne!’ Mrs. R said. ‘This is Hermannsburg, not Alice Springs!’
‘No stockman or lonely explorer, then?’
‘No, this is as good as it gets.’ She placed the glasses on the table. Besides, the blokes up here, I don’t think they’d be your type.’
Then I’m destined to be an old maid then. I sighed.

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Monday Missive

I recalled the old Mazda my Dad bought for a bargain because its rear had been damaged. The engine worked alright. Good for a new and inexperienced driver as I was back then…except the ol’ bomb with the dodgy back was a police-magnet.

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